Page 12 of Ashvale: The Vampire's Kiss

She laughed, a light tinkling sound that grated across my nerves. “Of course.”

“That’s good,” I said, looking away and around the room as if anxious, “because I have some things I’d love to ask you.”

A pale eyebrow rose and the amusement on her mouth seemed genuine. “You young ones always do have questions.”

She expected me to ask her about being an undead, then. I smiled. “Have you ever been to court?”

The slight furrow of her brow gave away the answer before she spoke, “The catacombs? Yes. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you end up there from time to time.”

“I suppose a coup would be quite the occasion,” I said lightly and was already moving before she could do more than widen her eyes. The blade in my sleeve slid free easily and I didn’t hesitate, plunging it into her chest and momentarily incapacitating her. It would take more than a stab to the heart to kill an undead vampire as old as I could feel she was, though. But her shock bought me time. “A vampire of your age… That’s a survivable wound. If you tell me what I want to know, then you’ll live to heal.” I placed my hand on the hilt of the silver blade, twisting viciously as I looked into her eyes. “Or don’t, and I’ll get my answers another way.”

She coughed, the sound wet as her body tried to heal around the blade unsuccessfully. “What?—”

“The monarchs.” It was two words and yet, that was all I had to say. The vampire’s face seemed to drain of the little colour it had as she shook her head.

“I have nothing to tell you.”

I reached behind me and pulled the longer blade out from under my jacket where it was sheathed across my back. The ideal length for decapitation. “That’s unfortunate.”

“If I tell you, I’m dead anyway,” she protested, eyes on that larger blade as it loomed closer to her unprotected neck. I didn’t have much more time. The blow I’d dealt to her heart may have temporarily frozen her limbs as the shock worked its way through her, but any second that could fade and this would become… messy.

“Then I suppose it’s lose-lose for you,” I said gently as I pressed the blade to her throat. “You might as well tell me, if you’re going to die anyway.”

The rage I’d been waiting for finally showed on her face and I wasn’t even surprised when she stood in a blur of movement, the blade nicking the skin of her throat and sending a trickle of blood down her front. Now that was a challenge her vampire-instincts wouldn’t let lie.

She leapt for me, a snarl on her face and her halo of blonde hair smeared with her own blood. The dagger in her chest stayed put, the hilt brushing my stomach as she tried to tear out my throat. She may have been stronger, faster, but the problem with the undead is that they thought that was enough to make them the apex predator—relying on brute strength rather than skill. But me? I was strong, I was fast, and I actually knew how to fight.

I slapped aside her clumsy lunge and caught the arm that swung out at my face, trying to claw my skin, snapping it easily as my foot connected with her knee. Another snap. She crumpled and I followed her down. “Last chance.” My voice was a low rumble that held the promise of death and I saw my own glowing irises reflected in her eyes.

She shook her head, lips parting. “Impossible,” she breathed. “It’s you.”

“It’s me,” I confirmed and glanced at the door as I heard footsteps approaching outside. “This could have gone a whole other way.” I sighed and whatever words she’d been attempting choked and died as I shoved the long blade cleanly through her throat and severed her head. In truth, if she’d had anything to do with the disappearance of my family, then there was only ever one way this would end—with her blood on my hands.

I’d brought a duffel with me, flattened down and shoved into the back of my jeans beneath my jacket, and I dropped the head into the waiting darkness before zipping it up securely. At least I’d had the foresight to cover the inside in plastic wrap this time. Now it would only be a matter of seeing what Cal could get out of the memories left behind.

I tidied as best I could, hiding my blades again and making sure my face and clothes were as free of blood as possible—though some could be excused as just part of the fun that was had in these backrooms.

I closed the door behind me, not looking back at the body on the floor or the puddle of blood slowly forming. The footsteps I’d heard belonged to a dark-haired living vampire, the heat on his skin and thump of his heart giving him away as he walked into a room a few doors down from the one I’d just exited.

The bar had started to get busier by the time I re-emerged and nodded to the bartender, putting on an irritated expression like I was some kind of blood-jilted fanboy. “Bastard living vamp came and interrupted us. I guess she fancied him more because she kicked me out. Can you believe it?”

The bartender looked like he couldn’t give less of a fuck if he tried, nodding half-heartedly at me as I stomped away, bag thumping at my side as I moved, needing to get my grisly prize to Cal sooner rather than later. Everything on the outside looked exactly the same, Londoners passing by the magickally-shielded bar and none the wiser to the murder I’d just casually committed. It had been unavoidable, though. Blood and death were par for the course when you were a vampire, let alone the lost-heir to vampire royalty.

Chapter Seven

Leonora

“Why is your room so much bigger than mine?” I demanded as I walked through the intricately carved wooden door. Everything at court seemed to be carved into arches and whorls. There was no piece of furniture undecorated, nor any wall or corner unadorned. It was the sort of gaudy opulence I had only ever seen in churches and, well, this wasn’t exactly a place for the holy.

“We opted to share,” Emerson said, ushering me in and closing the door firmly behind her. I understood the feeling, something about this place gave me the creeps too, like there was power roiling in the air and ears in the walls.

“That’s a nice way of saying, they weren’t expecting us and didn’t have enough rooms,” Novalie muttered and I winced.

“Seriously? This place is huge, I’m sure there must be an extra room?—”

“It’s fine,” Emerson interrupted, glancing between me and Novalie as she bit her bottom lip. “I’d rather have the company. This place is…”

“It’s something else,” I agreed. The crackle of energy was nothing like the debut ball, this was the kind of power that made the hair on the back of your neck shift. “Well, at least you have plenty of room for the two of you in here, even if you do have to share the bed.”

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